Waiting For The End Credits

She hadn’t meant to come back.

Not really.

But the world stopped caring if she stayed,

and the winding road home

Started playing the game

whispering her name.

The streets were familiar.

The names hadn’t changed.

But the faces…

they smiled too quickly,

laughed like they’d rehearsed it.

She passed the corner store

the man cleaning paused

just a second too long,

as if he recognised her

but couldn’t place the reason.

She told herself it was nothing.

Told herself this place was still home.

But then she saw the house

at the end of Lantern Hill

the one that used to belong

to the girl who never let anyone forget her name.

Now the windows were boarded,

the laughter erased,

and the silence had fangs.

Olive ran until leaving felt like breathing, and she came back when not breathing started to look easier.

Athena held the group together with lists, jokes, and teeth clenched just tight enough to pass for strength.

Words, according to Juno, could save people, or at least explain why they couldn't, and she continued writing anyway.

Robin loved Olive the way you love a door you hold open, knowing one day it won't swing back.

August didn't say much, but he was always there to watch the stars, mapping exits no one else noticed.

Mordecai laughed first and loudest, like if he kept loud enough the dark wouldn't get a turn.

Annie loved these worlds because they were upfront about what they were and loved people hard.

When words failed Emma sang, and when they didn't, that was how she stayed. How she lived.

Charlotte drew what everybody else felt but couldn't name, leaving truth in the margins.

Olive came back without telling anyone. She dropped out of university, packed what fit into one bag, and took the first train that would carry her home without asking questions. When it stopped, she stepped down onto the platform, leaned her back against a cold brick wall, and smoked a cigarette she didn’t even want.

She didn’t go home.

Instead, she flagged down a taxi and let it take her into town, watching the streets slide past the window

At the town centre, she paid for the cab, brushed her hair from her eyes, and started walking briskly. She kept moving, as if standing still would invite unwanted thoughts. Second thoughts on what she was going to do.

Head down, hands shoved in her hoodie, she made her way to the destination, the destination of a lifetime.

By the time she reached the tracks, the sky was already turning soft and orange. She climbed down and sat cross-legged on the rails, hoodie pulled low over her face, metal cold beneath her thighs. The sun hovered at the edge of the world, and she watched it with the distant calm of someone waiting for end credits to roll.

“Well, this is either a very dramatic breakup or a wildly niche yoga technique.”

Olive span her neck around so fast it almost pulled a muscle. A million thoughts clattered through her serene mindset.

“Who-“ she stuttered in disbelief, somehow stuttering through her inner monologue. “Who are you?”

She then deflected, classic Olive they would have all said.

“I was trying for the newest local cryptid competition, duh.” She replied.

“Our urban legends are more cloaked ghosts in woods, less… train-y.”

“I know.” She said, running out of witty replies.

“You a local?” The old man, short wispy white hair, eyes deeply scared, asked.

“All my life.” She replies, then quick, before the old man can say anything more she asked, “Is this the part where you tell me life is worth living and death is never the answer?”

“Kid, I came here to throw bread at ducks and talk to them like they’re listening, but here you are. So…

No.

No big speech.”

“…Refreshing.” She replied.

“Just so you know, if a train does come, IF, I am not diving to save you. My heroic act for the decade consisted of rescuing a cat from a small - but ferocious - pug.

“Was the cat grateful at least? Mine never was, then it got hit by a car.”

A pause. He didn’t reply.

“It was a black cat too, didn’t think Buddha’s karma affected them. The witches canceling it out and that.”

“The cat ate my pet bearded dragon.

I don’t even know how that’s possible.”

A longer pause, Olive stared at the seeds in the old man’s hands, she was almost entranced.

A flash, quicker than the norm, she saw her sitting by the lake, feeding bread to some ducks.

“FINE! Fucking fine! I’ll go talk to my friends!”

She stormed off, the old man looked perplexed. Eventually after twenty or so paces, she spun around on her heel and waved goodbye appreciatively.

She walked and walked, eventually arriving outside a shop called ‘Mordecai’s Music’.

The neon sign clashed with her emerald eyes.

She peered into the windows as if she were going to rob the place. She saw everything in boxes,

“It’s basically desolate. What’s the harm?” Olive figured it must be abandoned.

She thought for a moment and then walks around the back, opening the basement and walking down the stairs.

“Knew it!” She yelled to no one in particular. “He always took so many cigarette breaks there’s no way he’d be able to lock it!”

She poked her head round the corner suspiciously, clicking the light on in the basement without even looking. Eventually, after mustering up what little courage she had stored, she realised she had wasted it, when she saw yet more boxes.

She started searching and eventually found a bass guitar. She plugged it into the one remaining amp, about the size of the dust covered Amazon parcel to the side and started shredding. Well, shredding is a stretch. Playing the intro to “For Whom the Bell Tolls” by Metallica as quickly (and as complicated) as she could possibly make it. While she’s distracted playing, the front door opens and someone starts walking down the creaky basement stairs. The mysterious figure arrives to the bottom of the stairs holding a cardboard box of vinyls. For a second Olive relives the time she almost bought a record player for university but then realised only the people she hated had them. She couldn’t be another Jamie.

“…Olive?”

“Athena?”

Chapter One – OH! MY! GOD!

“OH! MY! GOD!”

The cardboard box in Athena’s arms wobbled dangerously, spilling a loose coil of guitar cable over the floor.

“You’re like-what the hell… You’re a ghost! Like an actual ghost. Did you die? Are you dead? Am I dead?” She said in one long breath.

I decided to not answer right away. I strummed the final note of the Metallica song on the bass, the low growl echoing through the empty basement like a ferocious tiger.

“God, I shouldn’t say that, that’s so insensitive.” Athena’s said under her breath.

“If this is the afterlife,” I finally piped up, cooking up my most recent deflection, “it’s a downgrade. That lightbulb is flickering so much I thought I was in Stranger Things.”

“You’re seriously here,” Athena said. “In Mordecai’s basement. Playing Metallica like a banshee.”

“He left the back unlocked,” I said, as if that made everything right. I sat the bass down gently on the amp. “Again.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know.” She joked; pupils wrapped in melancholy. Eventually, Athena finally moved, setting the box down next to the battered amp, attempting, and succeeding after many tries, to sit in front of me on top of said amp and squinting at her.

“Okay. Real question,” Athena asked. “Are you okay?”

I hesitated – only for a second.

“I’m fine! I missed you guys!” Even with the pause, this reply felt like it came too quick.

“Is this a one-night-only haunting,” Athena asked, “or are you sticking around?”

“I think I’m staying.” I replied, looking down to my feet as if I had said something horrible.

“Wow,” she said, then suddenly paused. “Well. In that case, you owe me a coffee. And possibly therapy.”

“Only if you let me keep playing his bass like it owes me money.”

“Deal. You’re buying the coffee though. I’m still broke and emotionally underdeveloped. I pretend to be deaf so I don’t have to talk to the barista.”

“Hey,” I said as if I hadn’t heard our previous conversation. “You still talk to anyone?”

Athena looked down, she rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “Some of them. Not really all at once, though.”

“I assume you heard the news about Mordecai…” Athena said hesitantly.

“Yeah, it’s that he passed away.” I said quickly.

“No, he didn’t PASS away Olive, that’s- that’s childish.” She said with angered restraint. “He died from OD-ing.

That fucking junkie. He was worth so much more.”

My smoke tainted lungs quivered, I tried to remain with a sense of normality.

“Don’t know if I’ll be ready to see them again,” I said. “It’ll be so weird!”

Athena stayed silent.

“Are any of them at university?”

Athena still didn’t say anything for a moment, incredulous and almost offended.

“This is a poor town.”

“So… no?”

“Our friend is DEAD, Olive, DEAD. Maybe you don’t care but I do- I have more important things to do. Like arranging an entire funeral.”

She walked to the beginning of the stairs.

“And yes, Olive. No one got scholarships like you. They’re all still here.” Athena added bitterly.

Athena walked to the door that led out of the basement, making a final remark.

“I think we both know the reason you’re acting like nothing happened is because it could have happened to you, it could have been you that we all gather for in a church. But whatever, retreat into your fantasy land, it doesn’t make a difference, nor surprise me.”

She paused.

“Just like the good old days huh? Good old ditzy olive, the crazy party animal.”

She slammed the door.

I sat there for a while, longer than I’d like to admit – even to myself.

“Sorry darling, we’re in Greece currently, so there’s no way we can come get you!” My mum’s bitterly soothing voice through my battered old iPhone.

“Uh, well, is there anyway a guy can get a house key or something, under some kinda suspiciously shaped plant?”

“You could ask Mrs Benson, but it’s late there, isn’t it? Must be like ten thirty!”

“Eleven thirty- not the point, look man, I’m at a loss and the only other option would be-

…

Oh no…”

The stitch comes before I even step forward, I jog, then sprint beside Athena’s car.

“Hey hey! Wait up!” I shouted.

She braked to a halt.

“What is it?” She said, her patience wearing incredibly thin.

“Uhhh so… do you think it’s possible I can crash at yours?”

“No.” she said, simple as day.

“Just-just listen! My parents are on holiday apparently so I can’t get in my house. I really need a place to sleep tonight, pleeeeease?”

Athena gave a blank stare.

“Pleeeeeeeasse!” I said with such intensity it felt as if my eyes would pop out my skull.

Without saying a word, Athena popped open her door. I gave an ear-to-ear grin and leaped into the car before she could change her mind.

However, not a single word would - could be spoken during this drive, like a thick, impenetrable wall between us two. God, this was painful, agonising even, the tension was so thick you couldn’t even cut it with a chainsaw, it wasn’t Athena finally piped up.

“I…”

She stopped. Eventually mustering up the courage to continue. “I… don’t want to come across as a bitch, you know?”

“I honestly didn’t think you were being one.” I stared at my trainers, faded sharpie in the shape of stars still linger.

“Well,” she paused. “Look, I get it, difficult shit is… difficult.”

She gave a slight self-deprecating chuckle, “God I’m a philosopher, hm? It’s much easier to hide away and think about it another day, but…”

She paused, her breath quivering between her teeth.

“I guess I’m just so frustrated because I haven’t had an opportunity to do that, me and Robin have been running around sorting things out for everyone.”

“You’ve always done that…” I said as softly as I could manage.

“I know, doesn’t make it easier.”

“Exactly, that’s my point, you’ve always been burdened with this stuff.

Let me help!”

For the first time since I had seen her all those years ago, she gave me a warm smile. The kind that looks all the way through you. Athena didn’t show affection like anyone else, even with her parents being the hippies they are (hence the name) however she knew exactly what it was. In her own way, she was giving affection constantly.

Can’t say the same about my grumpy old ass though.

I laid my head on the passenger window, closing my eyes and letting the vibrations of the car speeding along cascade all about my body.

I don’t remember how long that car ride took, I must have dozed off, it was quite a day, after all. But I do distinctly remember what she said next.

“So, ready to go in and see Robin?” Athena asked as we pulled up to her house.

“WHAT! NO? WHAT? WHY IS SHE IN YOUR HOUSE TO BEGIN WITH? ISTHERESOMETHINGIDONTKNOW!?”

Athena chuckled again. This time it seemed like she was even holding back laughter.

“Relax man, that reaction is priceless, I’ll have to remember that before you actually do meet again. I suppose feelings linger.”

“UH YEAH, FEELINGS OF RESENTMENT! ANGER! RAGE AND MALICE!”

“Uh huh. Sure, whatever. Anyway no, it’s just my own place now. My parents pretty kindly moved out and gave me this.”

“Oh hey, nice.” I said half heartedly, I wish my parents would have moved out.

She unlocked the front door, it was like stepping into a museum, my head went dizzy, my face went numb. It was like a movie set. Moments I had replayed in my mind over and over, and I finally get to see behind the curtain, so to speak.

This was the most frequent hangout spot, not only was Athena’s house ‘a big fuck off mansion’, credit to Charlotte for that phrase, but her parents weren’t just hippies. They were cool as fuck.

I distinctly remember her mother coming round the back of the garden one night, even through my Marijuana induced haze, I could feel my heart pounding through my ribs.

Then, of course, she asked for one of her own.

“Hey Olive, what’d you go to Uni for?”

“English literature.” I responded, slightly confused.

“Thought so, got something to show you.” She said as she power walked up the cream-carpeted stairs.

Even more confused, I followed her up. Eventually we made it to a small, cramped and cluttered room, folders and paperwork strewn all around, with a large bookshelf on the back wall.

She ran her finger along many of the books until she found what looked to be a journal. It was ebony, a black leathery texture and had the outline of a gigantic tree on the front. This reminded me of Norse mythology but didn’t jog anything else in my mind.

Athena plopped it in my hands.

“…what is it?”

“Seriously? Olive, it’s the book you and Juno started.”

“No. Way.” I said. It clicked almost immediately.

Immediately I started rifling through the pages like a madman, with such conviction I’m sure Athena thought they might tear. But I had it covered.

The words were juvenile, the prose clearly pre-pubescent, oh yeah, I’m so above this now.

God, this must have been written ages ago. How old would I have had to of been to write this poorly? I mean, primary school at least.

“So yeah, think you two wrote this just before you left for university. Not sure why I have it, though.”

A sharp pain penetrated my heart.

“W-well,” I choked, the book slipping through my sweaty palms. “That’s quite a long time ago… too, I suppose.”

“Yeah… I uh, suppose?” Athena looked confused. “Anyway, i’m going to crash for the night, you can take the sofa.”

I nodded, I had learnt not to push my already thin luck.

“Night.” Athena said.

“Night night.” I said, loving the way that phrase sounded, reminding me of how Mordecai used to say it just before we turned the lights out in our sleepovers.

As I laid on the grey sofa, small grooves digging into my arms, I cuddled the blanket tight as if it were an old friend.

I really did miss Mordecai, I really did. No matter what, I did. No matter how I acted, it was all I could think about.

“I think we both know the reason you’re acting like nothing happened is because it could have happened to you, it could have been you that we all gather for in a church. But whatever, retreat into your fantasy land, it doesn’t make a difference, nor surprise me.”

The words echoed in my head, slamming against each end of my skull with a deafening crack. My ears rang from the impact and drowned out any other thoughts.

“It could have happened to you.”